


Pandora

by sainthound



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Childhood Memories, Clarice is his mom, F/M, Joseph is Harrison's dad, Magic, Sherwin is his brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainthound/pseuds/sainthound
Summary: Magic isn't something you learn - it's something you inherit.





	Pandora

Sleepy Peak 

1989

 

The witch in the woods was a kind of urban legend deal amongst the kids at Joseph's school.

Snippets of story, passed hurriedly in the changing rooms before Phys Ed, half-heard in the clamour of the cafeteria, whispered at sleepovers and blown so far out of proportion it was impossible to tell what was real and what was made up.

Not that Joseph believed any of it, anyway - it was bullshit. Entirely bullshit. There was no way a witch could possibly exist, and yet...

~

"Alex told me that Lawrence told him that Candy saw a girl in the street the other day," Carl relayed enthusiastically, his eyes bright behind his glasses.

Joseph paused with his sandwich halfway to his mouth, one eyebrow raised skeptically. "And?"

"And," Carl continued, "Candy had never seen her before in her LIFE. She doesn't come to our school. Weird, right?"

Joseph rolled his eyes. Sure, Sleepy Peak High was the only school within a reasonable distance, so almost everyone in the area went there. It wasn't impossible, though. To see someone you didn't know.

Trust Carl to believe everything Candy said - the guy was so lovestruck, it was unreal. "Maybe she's homeschooled."

"No, but there's more!" Carl was practically bouncing in excitement by now. "Candy said she saw this girl go to pet a cat in the street, and when she walked away, the cat had vanished! Poof! Gone!" He did jazz hands to emphasise.

Joseph merely blinked. "...right."

He didn't believe a word. Not a single word, and yet...

~

"Lucy! Come back here!"

Joseph whistled sharply, cutting through the silence of the forest like a knife. In the distance, he saw a black-and-white shape pause, stiffen, and double-back, weaving through the trees towards him.

"'Atta girl!" he grinned, kneeling down to let the excitable border collie run into his arms - and get muddy paw prints all over his jeans. Not that he'd ever complain.

Giving Lucy one last pat, Joseph stood up and looked around. These densely-packed pine trees always unnerved him - not SCARED. Never scared. They just... made him uneasy, that was all. The darkened spaces between them, overcast with deep green shifting shadows... anything could be hiding there. Bears. Wolves. Axe-murderers. It was part of the reason he always took Lucy with him when he went walking alone.

At his feet, the dog growled.

Instantly on guard, Joseph's eyes moved from tree-shadow to tree-shadow, searching for any sign of movement. "What is it, girl?" He hissed.

Lucy growled again, her ears flattened against her head and her teeth bared in a snarl.

Joseph's heart-rate started to pick up, his breathing becoming quick and shallow. He felt frozen to the spot. Oh, God, he should've left earlier, when he'd noticed the sky starting to darken...

Something cracked nearby, a twig, possibly.

And then came the crunching. Unmistakably the sound of footsteps on dead pine needles, startlingly close behind him.

Lucy's growling threaded out into pathetic whines, and Joseph squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, he was going to die. He was going to die out here in the forest with nobody to hear his last words apart from a dog.

Oh well. Better make it good anyway. What were some good last words? Something brave and poignant, something for the world to remember him by-

"PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!" He squeaked, wheeling around to face whatever excruciating death was coming for him and covering his face with both arms.

Yeah, real nice. Brave and poignant indeed.

He waited for death to come.

He waited a few seconds more.

Nothing. Nothing happened.

Perhaps the murderer had taken pity on him?

Biting his lip nervously, he slowly lowered his arms from his face... and blinked in disbelief.

"You okay?" The girl in front of him asked, tilting her head worriedly.

Joseph felt his face heating up in pure humiliation as he took in exactly what he'd been so scared of. She was absolutely tiny, short and slender, and couldn't be any older than him. Her fluffy ringlets of mousy brown hair rested on her thin shoulders, and her large eyes were the colour of the reflections of trees in a forest spring. Liquid eyes.

And, unless he was very much mistaken, she was the furthest thing from a murderer he'd ever seen.

"Uh..." Joseph coughed lightly, rubbing across the bridge of his nose as if he could erase the blush there. "Y-yeah, I'm good."

"Sure?" The girl replied, smiling wryly. "It's okay, I get freaked out in the dark too. It's pretty scary."

"I wasn't scared!" Joseph shot back defensively, curling the fingers of one hand into the fur on Lucy's neck to stop himself shaking. "I... I was just... just..."

The girl concealed a tiny laugh behind her hand. "It's okay," she repeated, taking another step towards him. "You don't need to make up some dumb excuse. Hey, can I pet your dog?"

Joseph blinked, slightly dazed. "Um, sure. Careful, though, she bites sometimes."

The girl's forest-reflection eyes lit up, and she dropped to her knees to offer her hand to Lucy. The dog sniffed tentatively towards her, before shoving her nose against her arm, trying to burrow under and climb into her lap.

"Aw, she's friendly!" The girl laughed, scratching behind Lucy's ears as the dog let her tongue loll out blissfully. Joseph's mouth quirked into a smile, and he knelt down beside her, running his hand over Lucy's back. "Yeah, she's a good dog. Stupid as anything, though. Her name's Lucy." He paused, before offering his hand to the girl. "I'm, uh, Joseph. By the way."

She looked faintly alarmed, shying away from his hand like a wary little rabbit, her fingers gravitating to the necklace resting on her chest. She was Catholic like him, Joseph noted; the necklace was a cheap-looking faux pearl rosary. "Lovely to meet you, Joseph. I, uh... I'm sorry, but I don't really... do... handshakes..."

"Oh!" Joseph retracted his hand guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, that's okay. Sorry."

The girl smiled shyly, nodding towards him. "I'm Clarice. By the way."

Joseph felt himself beaming. "Lovely to meet you too, Clarice."

Clarice's smile brightened a little, and at this distance Joseph swore he could see faint little freckles scattered over her nose and cheeks.

For the first time, he began to feel self conscious about the fragments of leaves that were doubtless caught in his dark hair, his damaged old coat, his mud-caked boots and jeans...

"Let's climb a tree."

"Um." Joseph was startled out of his reverie as Clarice stood up. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I SAID, let's climb a tree!" She repeated. Her eyes lit up with amusement. "Or are you scared?"

"I'm not scared!" Joseph spluttered, scrabbling to his feet and drawing himself up to his full height. Much to his annoyance, Clarice didn't look intimidated in the slightest - on the contrary, she smirked, pointing towards a nearby pine. "Race you to the top."

Joseph opened his mouth to ask exactly WHY they were suddenly climbing a tree, but before he could get a word out, Clarice had already swung herself neatly onto the first branch.

And he'd be damned if he was going to lose to the most nonthreatening girl he'd ever seen.

"Wait up!" He yelled, sliding through the damp pine needles towards the tree, with Lucy in pursuit.

"No waiting, it's a race!" Clarice called down, her voice edged with laughter. Joseph's boots slipped on the wet bark as he pulled himself onto the first branch, and stared up dizzyingly high into the tree, where Clarice was perched, staring down at him mockingly.

How in the hell had she got up there so quickly?

From the base of the tree, Lucy barked, her tail wagging a mile a minute, and Joseph smiled determinedly. He'd get up there eventually, even if it killed him.

After a few excruciating minutes and several near-disastrous slips, Joseph finally pulled himself onto the same branch as Clarice and slumped there, breathless. "I... hope you're happy..."

"Very," Clarice replied, swinging her legs off of the edge of the branch. Her green turtleneck sweater was scuffed with mud on the cuffs and hem, but otherwise, she didn't look as if she'd climbed a tree at all; not a single mousy brown ringlet was out of place. She smiled, and reached over to gently tuck a strand of Joseph's hair behind his ear, before snatching her hand back as if she'd been stung, her smile vanishing in an instant.

Joseph was far too concerned with accidentally falling to dwell on her strange reaction for long, however. Swallowing nervously, he forced himself not to look down as he pulled himself upright, knowing that if he did, he'd slip.

"Thanks for your help," he muttered sarcastically once he was sat in a relatively stable position. 

Clarice flinched, looking troubled. "I'm... I'm sorry."

Joseph's eyes widened, alarmed. No, he hadn't meant it like that! Why had it upset her so?

More importantly, why hadn't she helped him in the first place, or even shaken his hand? It was probably some kind of hygiene issue. Yes, she was probably germaphobic, or something.

Joseph respected that.

He turned away - and the last rays of sunlight hit him full in the face. Bringing his hand up to shield his eyes, he pointed into the west, where the sky was beginning to streak and blend with colours like fire and butterfly wings and candyfloss, in a beautiful watercolour cacophony.

"Look. Check out the sunset."

Behind him, he sensed Clarice shifting a little closer, peering over his shoulder into the sky as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

She was so close, now. Not touching, no, she was staying a few purposeful centimetres away from actually touching him. But he could feel her warmth against his back, and the soft little flutters of her breathing against his neck, like the wings of moths... and if he leant back just a little, he'd be pressed against her...

The sky was almost fully dark now, the colours faded to monochrome, and Joseph twisted around to face Clarice again.

He looked down.

And caught sight of the ground impossibly far below.

With a tiny cry he grabbed at the branch, dizziness settling in his mind as he started to slip.

"Joseph-!" Clarice's scream was followed by a brush of a hand just against his; in her panic, she'd missed.

And suddenly, there was no branch any longer, and the two of them were falling.

~

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry you're dead you're dead it's all my fault I'm sorry-"

Clarice's voice was low and urgent, like a mantra, pulling Joseph from the depths of unconsciousness and back to a world of pain.

Everything hurt. He felt like one big bruise, his limbs aching and stinging, his hands burning, his head throbbing. Friction, impact, scrape. No breaks. There was no sharpness there, no piercing pain, which was a miracle, considering. How far had he fallen, again?

He groaned, and the distraught murmuring ceased, giving way to a stunned silence. Then-

"Joseph?"

Barely a whisper, tearful, choked. Joseph's heart sank.

"Yeah?" Ouch. It hurt to talk.

"Oh, thank the Lord!" Clarice's voice cracked, and Joseph forced his eyes open. It was pitch black. How long had he been out of it?

He could just barely make out two silhouettes, one holding onto the other for dear life. As he watched, Clarice unwrapped her arms from around the dog, and stood.

"I'm sorry."

Wait.

"Clarice," Joseph struggled upright, clenching his teeth. Damn, he was bruised bad. Really bad. Walking would be a chore and a half, that was for sure.

Clarice shook her head slowly, and in a beam of moonlight filtering through the trees, Joseph could see the silver tear-tracks spilling down her cheeks. She looked ethereal, and for a moment, Joseph felt horribly unsettled to be alone in a dark forest with her. "I'm sorry, Joseph... I... I just..." she wiped at her cheeks with her sweater sleeves. "I mess everything up. I'm sorry."

"Clarice," Jacob's voice took on an edge of panic. What was going on? What had just happened?

Surely she wouldn't just-

She hesitated, agonised, before dropping to her knees in the pine mulch and wrapping her arms around him. The hug was quick, fleeting, but he could feel the dampness of her tears against his cheek, and she was so warm, and so REAL-

And then he was flinching away from the bright overhead light in his bedroom at home, the blankets tucked around him and his parents sat worriedly beside his bed.

Lucy was nowhere in sight.

~

It would be a year before Joseph met Clarice again. 

He would be walking by the big old house on the mainstreet, when the door would open and Clarice would run out. She would be a little taller but still slender, still have those mousy ringlets, those forest-reflection eyes.

Except this time, the forest reflection would be dulled, blurred. Something bright would be missing, and she would freeze, staring at him in mounting fear and guilt.

But he would greet her, strike up a conversation, and she would gradually ease herself into smiling and laughing and being a friend again.

And they would begin to spend more time together, and Joseph would learn that she was to attend Sleepy Peak High after the summer, and they would grow closer until Joseph could hug her, and she'd hug back without hesitation.

He never did see Lucy again, he reflected, lying awake beside his wife eighteen years later. They'd got a new dog, after she failed to come home - a Belgian Shepherd named Pip who looked like a wolf and herded like a professional. He lived outdoors, and he didn't like to go for walks or play unless he could chase, or hunt. Pip liked the fear, the bloodshed.

Joseph had longed for Lucy, but she'd never come home. Not after days, weeks, months, years. He'd searched, of course he had, but found no trace; he'd thought perhaps she might have lolloped into a ravine and broken her neck, or drowned in a marsh, or been mauled by a bear defending her cubs.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

Clarice often suffered from night terrors and whimpered and fidgeted as she slept, or worse, woke up crying. Sometimes she would scrabble out of bed before he could stop her, and go to the tiny room at the back of the house, where their little Sherwin used to sleep. She would always come back, minutes later, and climb back into bed, and sob quietly against Joseph's chest. He seemed to have his hands on her at all times, to soothe and comfort, to brush her tears away and stroke her hair and murmur that everything was alright, that she was safe.

He was used to lying through his teeth.

Tonight, though, was one of the rare nights she slept through quietly, curled against his chest under the blankets. Tentatively, he reached out and traced her face with his fingertips. She looked about ten years younger when she slept peacefully, lines etched by years of stress and fear smoothed, long eyelashes fanned out on her pale cheeks. Almost like the young woman who had humoured Harrison's silly magic tricks as she cradled Sherwin in her lap, like the girl who had raced him to the top of a pine tree on a damp October evening in 1989.

He hoped that wherever Sherwin was, Lucy was too.

They'd both be glad of a little company.


End file.
